Alpha’s Forbidden Mate
They never spoke of what came next, which was good, because neither had the vocabulary for it.
One damp afternoon, as thunder trembled over the rooftops, a figure appeared in the doorway. A child, yet unclaimed. Skinny, stubborn, hair the color of river sludge, eyes too bright with hunger to be anything but local. She wandered in, ignoring the line, and stood at the counter with her palms flat. “You’re the Thumb Woman,” she said to Carolina.
Carolina nodded. The child watched her, measuring.
“I hear you can fix people, if you want.”
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